


Burglar Cat

by jessrsermt



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: AU, Abyssinian cat, Advertising artist!Annabeth, F/M, I was also kind of a little obsessed with lists, Magnus Chase (mentioned) - Freeform, Mortal AU, an old edited fic tbh, first meeting i guess, first person POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-14 23:53:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16051181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessrsermt/pseuds/jessrsermt
Summary: That fic in which Annabeth Chase has a burglar cat. That's it. That's the summary.





	Burglar Cat

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Rick Riordan owns Percy Jackson and the Olympians, and The Heroes of Olympus.

Cat brought his first find to me, one night when I was slumped on the kitchen bar stool. I had a glass of red wine in one hand and an open bottle in front of me on the kitchen counter.

There were so many wrong things that night: 1. I have no one to share the apartment with, anymore. 2. My best friend was already passed out on the couch, hugging an empty bottle of tequila and angrily murmuring curse words. 3. I was drinking red wine from a flat-bottomed glass and 4. There wasn’t even any music on. But my emotion’s a wreck after breaking up with a long-term boyfriend and Cat’s find, that time, funnily wasn’t considered wrong.

He got up the counter as I took another swig from my glass of red wine. I looked at Cat through the glass and watched him let go of the cloth he had brought. Cat the cat purred.

I didn’t even spit out my wine. (It was a good wine.) Instead, I blinked slowly at the cloth he had laid in front of me and tsked in lack of interest, or maybe I was already drunk but I refuse to concede to the powers of alcohol.

Here’s a little background about Cat before I trek on: Cat the cat is Abyssinian. When my ex-boyfriend got him for me, I only had two thoughts in mind. One was that the cat was adorable. (And still is, by the way. I think Cat knows that.) And two was that it was the sweetest gift I’ve ever received. I thought there’s nothing in the world that says a great love of an old relationship than an Abyssinian cat—one of the oldest breeds of domestic cats.

I guess cats don’t symbolize everlasting love, at all. I mean, the Egyptians got over their whole cat-praising-thing, right? Though, it doesn’t also mean cats don’t love their owners for their whole feline life. I believe, they don’t act like it but they really do.

Cat loves my ex-boyfriend. I used to find him squeezed in his portion of the closet, and tucked between his clothes.

Seeing a sock on the counter wasn’t odd. Cat sometimes does that. He’d pick up my ex’s socks or underwears and bring them around our unit. (Hence, we rarely receive guests.)

I didn’t think of it odd, until the next morning when my head was done throbbing and my best friend finally called me to check up on how I was doing while complaining how her ears were still ringing, from time to time.

My footsteps faltered as I made my way to the refrigerator and my eyes caught the image of a black sock on the counter.

Cat was trailing behind me—looking as innocent as compared to the devil he truly is—and nudged his head on my feet.

I looked at him and the sock back and forth.

The list of wrong things was getting ticked off one by one. 1. That isn’t my sock. 2. That isn’t my ex’s sock (He packed all the things he owns when he left and I even returned all the gifts he gave me. Minus Cat because I am keeping him, no matter what he’d want) and 3. I own a burglar cat. I was starting to worry that I was becoming a horrible cat parent.

I immediately called my best friend, after feeding Cat, and told her about the sock and my burglar cat.

“You’re being too hard on Cat. Maybe he thought it’d cheer you up,” Piper said over the phone. I could hear the buzzing of a printer in the background.

“This IT guy keeps sending me flag messages, telling me I send too many spam messages through the network.” She has a talent for keeping various topics in one conversation. It’s amazing how I can cope up with her.

“I was drinking good wine. I was cheering myself up,” I answered. “You have to stop chatting with me using your company’s network. Who knows what that IT guy has already learned about us? Hopefully, it’s not your kink in long-haired men.”

My best friend laughed. I heard her press a few keys and the printer began buzzing again. “Hey, I was cheering you up, as well. _Hopefully_ , it’s not our plan to take over the world.”

It was my turn to laugh. “Yes, you’re even cheering me up while you’re asleep.” I cleared my throat and started mimicking her drunken voice, “ _Fuck you, son of a bitch. I’ll castrate you in your sleep._ Oh yes, thankfully we only discuss world domination over the phone. _”_

“Wow, Father Brennan would be so mad. Anyway, what’s the plan? Return the sock? I have a suggestion, let it be and wait until Cat brings you the goodies—like boxers or briefs.”

“God, Piper, that’s gross! What would I say? _Hi, my cat stole a sock. Here you go. Okay bye?”_ I shook my head. “I don’t even know who _owns_ this sock, not unless the person who _does_ own this post a missing note on the bulletin… Do you think someone will?”

“For _a_ sock?” She asked incredulously. “Nope, not unless it’s a pair.”

“Are you making fun of my new single life?”

“Maaaybe,” she exaggerated.

And, truthfully, I forgot about the sock after that. I was expecting it was only a one-time-thing but no, Cat didn’t stop after that.

A week later, I found a pair of grey boxer shorts on my bedroom floor.

I didn't want to freak out, at first, trying to be logical, but it was so stupid and downright preposterous that I started to panic. I was laughing-crying because of the absurdity of it all. I was only thankful that whoever owned the boxers wasn’t into those weird-graphic ones.

“Maybe it has a little pocket inside where the owner sticks a food in there,” Piper theorized while poking the boxer shorts with my slipper.

“Gross,” I replied. My nose scrunched.

“You know if this keeps up,” she looked at me then to Cat. Cat the cat only stared at her dully. His gold eyes seemed to say, _you got a problem? Whatever it is, it wasn’t me._ “You’ll start to look like a pervert.”

“Not if anyone finds out,” I tried to grin but it came out as a grimace.

“Yeah,” she snickered, “Except for the guy who owns this boxer shorts and that sock.”

“So now you conclude only one person owns them?”

She nodded. “Man, you don’t look so good.” She shook her head as though I was getting convicted of murder.

“ _He_ doesn’t even know who I am. I don’t even know if he has seen Cat, because if he did, maybe he’s already here claiming his stuff, right?”

“Or,” my best friend held up a finger in the air like getting one of those eureka moments, “He’s shy too. I mean, what do you think he’d say?”

I nodded, getting her point. Oh, it was getting nerve-wracking, but in the end, I chose not to do anything and thankfully, Cat stopped, but only for a while.

The day before my burglar cat struck again, I met the owner of the undergarments. But he didn’t know who I was, but I did.

That day, I went to see the landlady to settle the apartment fees and electric bill. I saw him got out of her office. (Of course, I didn’t know it was him that time but I soon found out.) He looked uninterested, though the faint blush that painted his face and neck proved otherwise. Whatever the landlady and he talked about, it wasn’t comfortable.

Our gazes met for a brief moment and I was fast to break away. I am not a social person and I avoid strangers as much as possible.

“Good morning,” the landlady greeted me when she saw me come inside. “I hope it isn’t another thievery.”

“Excuse me,” I asked.

“The guy that came before you—he just left actually, maybe you saw him—filed a complaint that his clothes were missing one by one.”

The idea didn’t click instantly, so I asked, “Are there other cases?”

“No, only him. Poor guy—only been here for a couple of months.” She tsked and tapped her fingers on her table where a bunch of papers was scattered. “And he refused to file a report.”

“Why not?”

“What would you think if someone filed a report about missing undergarments, honey?” She looked at me sincerely and then sighed. She looked pretty torn between laughing and staying serious.

“Oh,” is what I only said before moving forward to pay my bills. The picture finally dawned on me and the man’s face kept flashing in my head as I handed the landlady my pay.

His green eyes—or were they blue?—kept coming back in my head. I imagined him judging me and I felt like wanting to burn down to the ground.

I learned, in the next few days, that he was the one who owned the unit next to mine. (Piper gave me a disapproving look. She said I should at least try knowing the people who I live with on the same floor. She’s right, of course, but that didn’t stop me from keeping to myself.)

One morning, I woke up to catch Cat in the act of setting down actual _briefs_ on my bedroom floor.

“Shit, Cat,” I exclaimed.

Piper fell off her chair laughing that day and Cat was caged. (I had to ask Piper to buy a cat cage immediately, as I couldn’t let Cat out of my sight again.)

Cat was on time-out for a month. I only let him out whenever he needs to eat, do his business, or if I had the time to watch him while he played around the room.

I am an advertising artist so I didn’t have enough time to watch Cat, and I was getting really sorry for taking away his feline freedom. So, thinking he had already gotten past that stealing feat, I finally decided to completely let him out.

And life was completely normal, after that—is what I wanted to say.

My life revolved around Cat, my job and my few friends, for a while. I even started following Piper’s advice and began smiling at people in the hallway. I don’t talk to them but at least, I am starting something, right? Hey, baby steps.

At some point, I also got back with my ex-boyfriend, but I broke the relationship a month later. I was convinced I was only blinded by the idea of him and I back again that I completely set aside what I actually felt.

“Wow, so he’s like your ex,” Piper commented while poking Cat’s tummy. She knows cats hate that but she does it, anyway, “ _Twice removed.”_

“I think you only use that for familial relationships,” I told her as I scrolled through my ad designs.

“When are you leaving?” My best friend inquired before laughing at something Cat did.

“Friday night,” I answered monotonously. I was going to go home and spend “quality” time with the extended family.

I am close with my family, but being with the extended family had always been nerve-wracking—aunts, uncles and cousins coming together to spend time and have fun, but I couldn’t see and feel the fun. The only things I can see and feel are their eyes on me. They’d unleash their opinions, saying they care about me, but it’s so hard to understand when all I could ever feel was how much they’re trying to squash me smaller and smaller. It's not too nice. It doesn't give you the full right to make someone feel utterly small, just because you're related to them. Sometimes family isn’t home. Sometimes family is what you’d find with your friends. There’s a saying that “blood is thicker than water” but it’s a saying that was fully taken out of context. “Blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb” and that, that is the full context.

“I can’t wait to go back here,” I added grudgingly.

“Tell me all the details, and remember to always imagine them naked whenever you feel like boiling.”

“Yes, I will,” I rolled my eyes, “You know I’d die if I don’t.”

Piper laughed, and said, “Right you are.”

“Be sure to come by here Friday morning to get Cat, alright?”

“Yes,” she replied, “I also won’t forget to feed him, bathe him and keep my eyes on him.”

My best friend raised her hands in the air and added, “I got this. It’s not like you’d be gone for a year.”

“Weekend with the extended family feels like an eternity,” I groaned.

Friday morning, before Piper arrived, I woke up to find another sock. This time Cat was even sleeping on it.

The Abyssinian just looked—looked at me! I was freaking out but I carried on. (Dad was already calling and I explained to him my flight was still hours away.) Plus, I needed to pass the plates and first few drafts of the animation for an orange juice ad, so right after Piper arrived, I hauled my bags with me to the office, and from there, I was going to go straight to the airport.

A few neighbors who saw me greeted me, and I greeted them all back in a rush.

The guy who was living next door, offered to help me with my bags but I couldn’t help imagining his clothes on my bedroom floor and I ungracefully stuttered a, “No, thank you. Goodbye.”

Man, I have to take care of that when I get back.

 

* * *

 

 

The weekend finished at a painful pace and I survived it thru talking with Piper and having Magnus—a favorite cousin—and my little brothers around. (And hot cocoa, too.)

I stopped by Piper's place to get my Cat. My best friend helped me with my bags, and I dizzily rode the elevator up to my unit.

I was still sick from the flight. Piper and I met the guy living next door and I wouldn’t have realized I knew him if he didn’t greet us when we got inside the elevator.

“You’re back,” he smiled. I only nodded as I pulled along my luggage in one hand and Cat, in a cage, with the other.

“Rough flight?”

“What,” I asked as though waking up from a slumber. I looked at him and he smiled again. “Oh yeah,” I nodded. “Men are not made to fly. Maybe that’s why God only gave us legs.”

Piper, beside me, snorted and the guy laughed.

He did something, though, that made Piper stiff.

I was watching the numbers go up, and he leaned in close to look at my cat.

He didn’t say anything, only cleared his throat and then gave me another smile—smaller this time.

Piper kept elbowing me, but only at the fourth or fifth time that I decided to raise an eyebrow at her.

The elevator dinged at our stop and Piper quickly got out, telling me to hurry along.

“I am discombobulated and tired and I don’t know what you’re trying to say,” I told her as I followed her along the hallway.

“Discombobulated? God, what did your family do to you over the weekends?” She commented. Piper quickly turned to me as I grabbed my keys from my pocket and said, “ _He_ looked at your cat!” She whispered with intensity.

“And so?” I asked her, raised my apartment’s key and studied it for a while. “Hey, do you think a key image would be a good family planning ad? I’ve got this client that-”

“Let’s talk about your ad later,” Piper slapped my hand, and I watched her eyes widen as she looked behind me.

I looked back to check what she was looking at and saw that it was the guy who was living next door. He was walking towards us—his eyes on me.

“Oh God,” Piper looked confused and borderline worried. She shook her head, and grabbed my key and opened the door. She started pulling my bags inside the unit, including Cat. Cat meowed uninterestedly.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a while?” The guy finally said as soon as he got closer.

I looked at him, perplexed and then back at Piper. My best friend looked like she wanted to strangle me but why? I didn’t know. She said, “Knock when you’re done. Good luck.”

She closed the door in front of my face.

“I thought _I_ lived here,” I murmured and turned to look at the guy.

And that’s when I finally got it. Oh, I wanted to die, right on the spot.

“Was that your cat?” He looked at me sincerely with his green eyes. (So they _are_  green.) A flush was starting to creep on his cheeks, and I was a little distracted how he looked so cute with his tousled raven hair and perfectly sharp jaw. Looking awfully embarrassed was doing him wonders. I was blaming the flight.

“Yes,” I replied.

He turned quiet for a while. I wanted to check for my pulse, but I realized that would be odd.

“You may not remember but a few months back, we saw each other outside the land lady’s office,” he continued slowly. I nodded.

Would I appear guilty if I start knocking frantically at my door now? I was starting to mentally curse Piper.

“That day, I filed a complaint because, uh, my clothes started missing,” he said.

I only blinked. _Please don’t appear guilty. Please don’t appear guilty._

“Last Friday, I finally saw who was stealing my clothes,” he said. His head was tilted down but he was peeking at me as if waiting for me to finally fess up.

No, it’s not going to be that easy.

“I’m pretty sure it was your cat,” he finally said.

Of all the things I was expecting him to say, it wasn’t one of that.

I blinked and only stared at him for a while. I took a deep breath, threw a look at the closed door, mentally fired a bunch of offensive remarks at my best friend who I am sure was behind the door and said, “Yes, it was my cat.”

And for the love of everything, he laughed. “Really,” he cleared his throat. “I thought you’d deny it.”

“Oh, I don’t lie,” I told him. Besides, what’s the point, right? Lying now would be like telling my stepmom that time, I didn’t eat the cookies but the evidence was all over my face and old orange camp shirt.

My face felt on fire and I stuttered an apology.

“I wanted to tell you but how would I tell you? So instead, I kept Cat inside a cage for a month and that worked out pretty well, and when I thought it wouldn’t happen anymore, it just kept on happening again, and last Friday, I told myself I’d take care of it when I get back. So maybe this is it, reality smacking me on the face. I just wished it was a little kinder because I am still dizzy from the flight and your green eyes have a wonderful shade.” I instantly closed my mouth. What the hell was wrong with me?

He laughed again as he combed a hand through his dark hair. If I wasn’t still goop, I don’t know what I am, anymore.

“I promise I didn’t play with your _things_. They’re in this separate laundry basket and you can get them. Please get them back,” I was saying, and I kept on apologizing, and he kept on telling me it was okay and that it was really hilarious and embarrassing, and I couldn’t agree more.

“I’m really horrible, but I am not a pervert. I am mostly just an advertising artist and a horrible cat parent to an Abyssinian cat, and I didn’t even have the initiative to know my neighbors if my best friend hadn’t nagged me about it… This is getting uncomfortable.” When will I shut up?

“Hey, hey, I told you it’s okay. I am at fault too. I keep opening the windows.” He tried smiling at me, and it was kind of helpful. “I’m Percy.”

“What,” I asked, confused again.

“You said you don’t know your neighbors. I’m Percy, and you are?”

“Oh,” I nodded, “Annabeth. I'm Annabeth”

“I wish we learned each other’s name in a different and a more comfortable moment but it’s nice to meet you, Annabeth.”

I wanted to agree with him but he had said my name so carefully that I was left weak, for a while, and I thought of how horrible I might look that moment, as I was still sick from the flight. Maybe my hair was all over the place and my eyes were still baggy, but I pushed all the thoughts away and asked, “You too. Would you like to get them now?”

“Would that be okay with you? I can come back later when you’re rested.” He tilted his head in a gesture, and I wanted nothing more than to get away from his studying gaze.

“No, it’s fine. Do you want coffee?” I asked, starting to knock on my door.

“If you’re offering then, that sounds wonderful,” he smiled again, and I swear his eyes really do have a wonderful shade of green.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for your time. Conquer the days!


End file.
